Say You Like Me
by Alice Twerkland
Summary: Sometimes they really are just a walking, talking cliche, aren't they? USxFem!UK


_Author's Note: _I'm going to start to be known for genderbend stories at this rate. I don't even know why I wrote this. May or may not turn it into a series eventually. We shall see.

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

American. Quarterback of the freshman football team. Tall but baby-faced, dirty-blonde hair and eyes as blue as the summer sky, complete with a gorgeous smile and a positively inviting personality that left women drooling.

English. Head of student council, despite being only a junior. A crotchety old woman of seventeen, blonde hair and green eyes, eyebrows a tad bit thicker than what would be considered normal, a girl with a deep-set frown and harsh tongue that everyone was afraid of and a personality that some called acidic but she just thought of as guarded.

That was how things were when they first met. Looking back, Alice is pressed to admit that they were as cliché as couples came. Social Outcast meets #1 Most Popular. That sort of thing.

Upon their first encounter, neither would have guessed that the other would become someone important in their lives. Certainly not Alice Kirkland, who didn't believe in the red string of fate. The novels she read in her spare time were simply that – novels; stories that left other teenage girls swooning in the back of their heads, just waiting for the day when their own Prince Charming would come to rescue them from a life of loneliness and chastity.

She thought it was a crock of shit.

They quite literally ran into each other at the mall on an unsuspecting Saturday a few weeks before Alice started her junior year, when she was seventeen and Alfred was fifteen. The twat hadn't been watching where he was going and bumped straight into Françoise, who tripped into Alice, who in turn dropped her cell phone, scattering ancient phone parts on the ground.

The incident hadn't been memorable aside from the usual jibes at the fact that Alice had a flip phone and ogling over Françoise's accent, which she laid on thick when in the presence of men, no matter how young and naïve Alfred had been, and then they went their separate ways. Alice had never expected to see the American again, and she had probably been fifty shades of red when she bumped into Alfred at school nearly a month later, whom had felt the need to ask if she still had her "ugly ass flip" in front of people who had tormented Alice for years.

The American hadn't meant any harm; really, Alice had figured out quickly that the younger boy had a loose tongue and didn't much care to think before he spoke, but first impressions were important, and Alfred certainly hadn't done himself any favors during their second encounter.

They didn't speak much. Alice avoided him if at all possible. They were on opposite ends of the social scale, so it wasn't terribly hard. Alfred had carried his credibility over from primary school and, aside from being a stickler for rules, Alice was only known for being the host of the hot, French foreign exchange student. It was a nice, simple life, one that Alice had come to appreciate despite its inconveniences, and she'd been content to let things stay as they were.

She isn't sure when she first noticed it, the stuttering or the heavily applied cologne, but once she realized that Alfred seemed to _always _be around, the football player was all she could focus on. Alfred was always bugging her in her office, sidling up next to her when she was at her locker, or waving at her excitedly during lunch when Alice and Françoise walked by, and while it puzzled the Brit, she didn't tend to dwell on the odd behavior too much.

"He is a strange one,_ non_?" Françoise said one day at lunch, smirking into an apple at her place in front of the giant oak tree on campus.

Alice frowned before closing her copy of _The Scarlet Letter, _annoyed that she hadn't had time to read seven chapters for her Honors English class the previous night, too busy helping her father chaperone her younger sister Paisley's slumber party. "What are you going on about?"

"Alfred." The brunette explained, raising a manicured hand to gesture toward the school, where the freshmen, who had to eat indoors, could be seen through the windows. Alice spotted Alfred sitting at a round table near the window, laughing with a few other boys that Alice couldn't place names to, and aside from the obnoxious bouncing his shoulders always did when he laughed, nothing seemed out of place. "The one so enamored by your ever lovely presence on the planet."

"There is a certain magic in being acquainted with an upperclassman, I suppose. He'll give up eventually."

Françoise made an odd noise, pouting in her pretentious manner. "What a shame. I do enjoy his attempts at getting your attention. They are the most amusing part of my day. Not much can get you flustered, Miss President."

Alice shrugged, reaching up to run her fingers through one of her pigtails. Françoise would normally tell her if she was having a bad hair day, and while she hadn't said anything as of yet, Alice couldn't help but wonder, what with the wind and all. "His technique does leave a lot to be desired, however." The French girl continued.

"Are you talking about those god-awful chants they do before matches? Honestly, I've never seen a worse attempt at trying to raise moral. Even Paisley refuses to get up."

"Hmm? No, no, I was referring to his flirting with you."

Alice whipped her head around, wondering if Françoise was just translating her thoughts incorrectly, but the girl was actually smirking at her. "That boy has not nor will he ever try to _flirt _with me. You've read one too many erotic fanfictions, Frog."

"Ah, but _ma ami, l'amour_ is such a beautiful thing!" Françoise exclaimed, and Alice swore the girl was slipping into her first language unnecessarily on purpose just to make her irritated. She was teasing her, surely. If Alfred were to court anyone, it should have been Françoise. "You cannot deny that the little boy is infatuated with you, God knows why."

"You do know at least two-fourths of the girls in his grade have called 'dibs' on his virginity."

"_Oui,_ that is why you must act now before the opportunity smacks you in the face and says, '_Au revoir!'_"

Alice tried her best to forget that conversation, though after that day, Alfred's odd habits suddenly began to make sense, and Alice began to wonder what she had done to deserve such a fate.

The fact that Alfred might possibly have a crush on her wasn't the problem. Despite his overall annoying personality and enthusiasm, the American was very sweet. She'd noticed he had a twin brother, a boy just a bit smaller and quieter than Alfred himself, and Alfred went out of his way to be with Matthew as much as he could. It was obvious he cared for his brother and would do anything for him. To Alice, who loved her sister more than anything, it made a lasting impression.

No, Alfred himself wasn't the problem. It was just that she had sworn off dating of any kind until she was older, when her peers caught up with her mentally, and Alice Kirkland certainly wasn't interested in becoming involved with a people-pleasure like Alfred F. Jones. She'd never hear the end of it from Françoise.

That being said, however, she did find the fumbling endearing, and she eventually stopped telling Alfred to bugger off whenever the younger teenager tried to approach. Once they were around each other more, Alfred stopped trying as hard and was content enough to hang out whenever Alice was free, though his eyes never lost that warmth, and his smiles didn't become any less toothy. But as junior year melted into senior year for Alice, the Brit found herself trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs whenever she allowed her thoughts to wander to the charming American during class.

It was horrible. She'd felt like a preteen stumbling her way through puberty again, waking up in the middle of the night to find herself rutting against her body pillow and then furiously avoiding Alfred for the rest of the day, tentative friendship be damned. The whipped puppy routine was something Alice had gotten used to with Paisley, but the fierce tug at her heart was somehow different whenever Alfred was the one doing it.

"We're friends, right?" He would pry, leaning over Alice in Anatomy and unknowingly – or perhaps just a tad bit knowingly – shifting his face a bit too close to Alice's for comfort. "You'd tell me if something was bothering you?"

"Even if there were an issue, I don't see how it's your business." Alice would retort, but when those beautiful azure eyes would flash and narrow slightly with hurt, she couldn't help but add, "You needn't worry about me. I grew up in the streets of London, I'll have you know. I'm more resilient than I look."

But not resilient enough to resist the young American's charm. Honestly, how could a person be so nice and so genuine, but be completely oblivious to the fact that they were? Alfred had obviously heard at least a few things about Alice Kirkland and her strange family, but he never added to the rumors or even paid them any mind. He just tried his best to make Alice feel as if she were the only thing that mattered. It was almost too easy to fall into the illusion when they were together, but it never lasted long, and despite the building attraction, Alice never allowed herself to become too comfortable.

Alfred was two years younger than her. He was a sophomore juggling a social life and sports, and Alice was filling out college and scholarship applications. Their priorities were different, and Alice reminded herself of that every time she woke up in the morning with wet panties.

Alice doesn't quite remember how she acquired the sought-after title of "Alfred Jones' girlfriend," though Alfred has told her the story numerous times over the years.

There had been a party. Françoise had insisted that they go and Alice had only agreed because she didn't want to be held responsible if something were to happen to her guest. Really, whose idea was it to have the Kirkland family host a foreign student? Anyway, after telling her father that they were spending the night at a friend's house, Alice had begrudgingly accompanied Françoise to the home of one Antonio Carriedo. She had been going to school with him for years but actually didn't know much about him, though he and Françoise had been rather chummy in the weeks leading up to the get-together.

Alice remembers wandering the large estate on her own, ignoring any stares and whispers until Françoise managed to track her down a few hours after they arrived, offering her a beverage. Call her a prude all you want, but Alice had never been one to turn down alcohol, and Françoise had been completely aware of that fact. After that, everything was easier – socializing, dancing, and laughing with Françoise instead of tearing at her throat. She'd felt free_. _It was only in her moments of weakness that Alice ever felt as if she could let her hair down, in a figurative and literal sense. Her father wasn't watching, there was no sick sister to attend to; it was just Alice and what she wanted to do, and it had been glorious.

She was laughing at an absolutely horrid painting hanging on the wall in an upstairs bedroom with Françoise when she blinked and suddenly she was outside, tired and disoriented and moving but also not. Alice squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, tightening her grip on whatever it was she was holding. "Hey! You awake back there?"

"Alfred?" Alice said, convinced she had passed out and was dreaming. She hoped Françoise wasn't allowing anyone to mess with her person. "Wassit the bloody – "

Alfred laughed, that boisterous, obnoxious thing, and it was then Alice realized – albeit groggily – that she wasn't dreaming. The boy's laughter reverberated against her chest, sending a wave of sensation down her body, and while she was too pissed to feel completely aroused, the feeling was there. Streetlamps were glowing dimly on either side of them, moths flying about in small swarms, and Alice sighed, cheek pressed against the nape of Alfred's neck. The younger boy was carrying her, she realized, hands gripping tightly at the undersides of her thighs, and now that she was awake enough to help support her weight, he straightened somewhat, no longer hunched.

"This is the first time I've seen you drunk. Who knew Alice Kirkland could be so much of a party girl?"

"Were you at Toni's? Never saw you."

"Yeah, Antonio and I are cool. He invited me down and I figured, why the Hell not? I'm kinda glad I went now. I got to be your hero, huh, Alice?"

Yes, Alfred was always going on about heroes, wasn't he? Those fictional characters in the _Marvel_ comics. Television personas. Normal, everyday blokes that risked their lives to help and save people… people like Paisley. "Some hero. Where's the frog?"

"Probably passed out on Antonio's bed."

Alice stiffened. "They're not – "

Alfred laughed again, and Alice squirmed uncomfortably. "Nah, it's not like that. Antonio started crying about his breakup with Lovina after you mentioned her or something, so Françoise stayed with him. She wasn't nearly as wasted as you, so she asked me to take you home."

Home. Where her dad and Paisley were. For some reason Alice thought she should be concerned about that, but couldn't quite piece together the reason. "M'not _wasted_." The senior mumbled, and her leg jerked as if she were trying to kick the lousy American. "I can hold my drink, lad."

"Uh-huh." Alfred said, and she could almost see the smirk on his face. "Well, maybe we can drink together some time and see who reigns supreme."

"No!" Alice said immediately, because she'd thought about this before, about Alfred changing and partying and no longer being himself, no longer baby-faced and bright-eyed and becoming a new person entirely, someone who didn't have time for her. "You're just a kid."

Alfred was silent for a while, the only sound to be heard between them being Alfred's sneakers as they scraped over loose gravel with every step. "Is that how you see me? As just some kid?"

Alice frowned, because the Alfred in her dreams that threw her up against walls or bent her over tables certainly wasn't a child. Maybe she did see him as a child in some ways, protected him from the odd thoughts she'd been having ever since her conversation with Françoise when they were juniors and Alfred was merely a freshman. He didn't need to concern himself with her. She'd be leaving for college soon enough anyway.

It was much too hard to think while drunk.

"You're really warm." Alfred said when it became obvious that Alice wasn't going to respond, and he hefted her up higher on his back when she began to slip, startling Alice into tightening her grip around his neck. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to have heard that, though she went on as if she hadn't.

"Where are we going?"

"To your house." Alfred said as if it should've been obvious, and Alice jolted, suddenly remembering why she didn't want to go home.

"No, you can't." She moaned, starting to feel ill, and she shifted to hit Alfred's shoulder with the heel of one palm, thrown by how solid it felt. "Can't go home."

"Alice? Hey, what's wrong?"

"Paisley, she – she won't understand, she won't see me, she'll get scared." Alice was always so careful. She always wore her hair in pigtails, wore the same pajamas to bed, used the same shampoo and never ever strayed from her schedule. It had been bad enough introducing Françoise into their lives. If she went home stumbling about and smelling of something unfamiliar, Paisley would have a fit. Not to mention what her father would do… "I – I don't like to see her cry."

Alfred made a small noise of confusion, and Alice panicked, worried that he didn't understand. "She's autistic. If I act different… Alfred, I'll do anything, don't take me home."

Terror was a funny thing, sobering enough that Alice momentarily gained the capacity to struggle against Alfred's back, ready to walk herself back to Antonio's if need be. But Alfred only grunted and tightened his hold on her, stopping abruptly near the curb. "Okay, okay, just stop squirming. You don't have to go home tonight."

Alice was silent as Alfred turned and began to walk back the way they'd come, feeling subdued in the wake of what she'd just said. Hardly anyone knew about Paisley, Françoise being the only person that wasn't apart of their family. Everyone in town only saw Paisley when she had a fit in public, when she would shut down and rock herself as a way to self-soothe while Alice and their father waited for everything to settle. It always pained Alice to see her sister in such a state, and it infuriated her to no end when people laughed and pointed despite the fact that they didn't know the whole story.

Paisley was normal. She did things any other second-grader would do and, to the untrained eye, nothing was wrong with her. But when their mum left, her disorder got worse. She wasn't receptive to change and usually hated to be touched. Alice was the only one who could cross that barrier without setting Paisley off. Her sister would surely get upset if Alice went home, and that wasn't what Alice wanted. She'd _had _to tell Alfred. But would he poke fun at Paisley as well?

"Where are we going?" Alice asked after a long while. They'd already walked past Antonio's house, the lights and music indicating that the party was still going on, and Alice cursed Françoise for leaving her in Alfred's care. She hadn't wanted him to see her like this.

"To my place." Alfred replied quietly, and Alice wondered if she was becoming too heavy for him. He sounded strange, was beginning to slow down. "My mom's out of town and Mattie's probably sleeping. We shouldn't have any problem sneaking you in."

"Why are you so perfect?" Alice whispered, her forehead now pressed against the skin above Alfred's collar, smudging her glasses horrendously in the process. The warmth of his body was starting to make her drowsy.

"I could ask you the same thing." Alfred said, though Alice didn't hear.

When she awoke the next morning, it was to the sound of a door opening, and Alice blinked blearily up at Alfred when the boy tore the comforter away from her face. "Oh, you're awake!" He said brightly, laughing as Alice scowled up at him. "This is like the sixth time I've come in here. You're a pretty heavy sleeper."

"Why not just let me come to you?" Alice groaned, swatting at the American until he moved away, giving her enough room to sit up. Her temples seemed ready to split, and she realized she couldn't remember anything about Antonio's party or what had happened after. "Where are we?"

"My _awesome _bedroom!" Alfred exclaimed, causing Alice to wince. "Oops, sorry. You were pretty drunk last night, so I brought you here. You were pretty insistent about not going home."

"At least I had the wits about myself to know my father would have been furious. Françoise and I told him we were staying the night at Lovina's to help her through her breakup with Antonio." Alice grunted, raising her eyes to observe Alfred's room, because she'd been curious for quite some time.

It actually looked far more mature than what Alice had been expecting. The walls were a simple navy blue, and where she would have expected to be a multitude of superhero posters was only a couple here and there featuring American football players. There was a desk near the wall on Alice's right side, the surface littered with textbooks and crumpled notebook paper. An armoire was against the wall across from her with a telly sitting on top, and really, everything was better kept than Alice would've thought. She'd seen the boy's locker at school. What a right mess that was.

"You were afraid your sister would see you and freak." Alfred said, and he looked vaguely apologetic when Alice whipped her head around to look at him. "I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to know about Paisley. You just… "

"I'm rather loose-lipped when I'm pissed. You don't have to apologize."

Alfred nodded while Alice ran her fingers through her hair, down for a change, preparing to ask the American for water and a bottle of aspirin when he spoke again. "You should wear your hair down more. It's… pretty."

Alice's hands fell into her lap at the admission, fighting back a blush as she tried to recall something she'd said last night. Something about perfection. "Oh. I – Thank you."

Alfred began to shift his weight, blushing underneath his freckles, and Alice felt as if the long months of tension were coming to a head, though she wasn't sure how or in what way. "Alice? Can we try something?"

"Try what?"

"Dating." Alfred said, and Alice couldn't understand how he was able to say that so easily. She'd been trying for months but could never form the words. "I know you think I'm just a kid, but we could work. I mean, I'm the only one who can stand to put up with you for more than five minutes aside from Françoise, so… "

Leave it to Alfred to say something completely unromantic in the wake of his own nerves. Alice could've throttled him, but she was having trouble thinking, let alone actually moving her body. She'd known for quite some time that Alfred had a crush on her, but she'd convinced herself that it would fade eventually and the American would find someone his own age, someone who didn't have an autistic sister or an exhausted father or a mum who had walked out on her. Alice had been teased for all these things for most of her life. No one had ever looked past her family before, so why should someone like Alfred?

But she knew the answer to that. Alfred was Alfred, plain and simple. Why wouldn't he look past her unfortunate circumstances?

"I don't think you're a child." Alice muttered finally, if only because Alfred was starting to look a little pale. "And even if I did, it's easily overlooked. Yes, we can give dating a go. But don't expect me to wear your jacket around school or hang off your arm before and after matches."

"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" Alfred laughed, though it was soft, breathy and riddled with disbelief, as if he hadn't expected her to agree. Alice was struck by her affection for the young American. He really was oblivious. How could she _not _want him? "At least now you don't have to worry about girls calling dibs on my virginity."

Françoise was definitely going to be dealing with more than just a nasty hangover once Alice was through with her.

Dating Alfred Jones was wonderful, even from the get-go. Alfred was a generally affectionate person and always seemed to have at least some part of his body touching Alice no matter where they were – the park, the mall, or even school; it didn't necessarily matter to him. Alfred had grown taller than her during the summer before his sophomore year, so by the time they got together it wasn't awkward for him to throw his arm casually around her shoulders.

Alice accepted the affection gracefully, trying to calm her smug satisfaction over the fact that she had acquired something many girls wanted. It was because of Alfred that Alice learned she actually enjoyed physical contact. Alice had to learn to suppress any and all physical gestures, because even though her younger sister would accept them from her, Alice couldn't help but worry. It was a little overwhelming at first, having all that attention directed solely at her, though the hype eventually died down, and Alice felt as if things were returning to normal.

"Careful." Françoise had been just as smug, if not more so, since she had been saying from the beginning that they should just save themselves the trouble and get together before either of them lost their nerve forever. "Don't let your couple's glow become too blinding or everyone will assume you spend all your time making love."

"They wouldn't be wrong." Alfred said, sky-blue eyes wide with feigned hurt when Alice punched his shoulder. "What the heck, babe?"

"You're too loud." Alice hissed. Really, she had every reason to be worried. Alice had been eighteen for a few months at that point with Alfred nearly five months into his sixteenth year. She would've gotten in serious trouble if the wrong person found out she'd had sex with a minor. It hadn't been planned. Alice had felt particularly randy and Alfred was usually up for anything. One thing led to another and… well, it had certainly been a night to remember. She'd never say so, but it was damn near perfect, fumbling, virgin awkwardness and all. "Don't exaggerate, it was only one time. And if you keep calling me 'babe' it certainly won't happen again."

Alfred pouted while Françoise smirked, biting at the end of a manicured nail. "Ah, do not lie, _ma ami_, you know you love it."

"Yeah, Alice, you know you love it."

"Oh, shut it, the both of you."

It was strange. She and Alfred had been acquainted for nearly a year and yet they had known so little about each other. Alice learned early on in the relationship that Alfred's father had been a firefighter and died of smoke inhalation when Alfred and Matthew were five. Their mum was a flight attendant and was gone for long but infrequent intervals, leaving her twin sons to fend for themselves for extended periods of time. Alice could relate. Her father worked long hours as a nurse at the local hospital, was on call more often than not, and spent the time when he was at home sleeping.

She couldn't blame him for anything. Things had been tight since her mum left, and she knew it was a struggle to take care of her and Paisley, and then catering to Françoise's needs as well as their own, though the brunette did spend all summers in France before returning for the school year. It was because of her family's financial situation that Alice needed to do whatever she could to get into college without her father's help, and why she'd been so hesitant when it came to being with Alfred in the beginning.

Relationships were distractions, something she didn't need or want, though she'd definitely needed Alfred for reasons she'd hardly understood back then.

After Alice graduated, she worried that Alfred would finally realize that the two of them had different priorities and decide to end everything. She received a full scholarship to a college in town, so it wasn't as if she left the state entirely – she had to take care of Paisley, after all. High school worries were just different than college ones, though it always made her smile on the rare occasions when she went to pick Alfred up from school and the American would take her face in his hands and kiss her before he'd fully gotten into the car.

Alfred really was something else. He took every opportunity to prove to her that he wasn't a child, though he retained his optimism and youthful arrogance well into their adult lives. Alice thought he tried his hardest when they were alone together, on those rare nights when Alice's father and Paisley both weren't home and he would fuck her in her own bed, gripping miscellaneous parts of her body and thrusting so fiercely her bed frame tapped against the wall, rendering her incapable of doing anything other than claw at his back or the bed sheets.

Neither of them were the type to dish out _I love you'_s left and right. Alice had been surprised where Alfred was concerned, considering how affectionate he could be. They spoke through actions more so than words, Alice especially, though it was in those moments that the woman knew Alfred loved her, when the adoration shone in his eyes, bright as day, as he gave her everything.

Alice wondered if Alfred could see it in her eyes as well, everything she couldn't say and then some.

Alfred moved in with her after he graduated high school. Alice had gotten her own flat during her second year of college, and Alfred had practically lived over there anyway, so there wasn't much of a transition. His mum was surprisingly lax about most of the things her sons did, gave them the freedom to explore and find their own way, and she didn't put up a fuss when Alfred announced he was moving in with Alice over supper one night.

"Don't let him get away with being lazy." Caroline Jones was a woman that Alice fancied as strong and dependable. It couldn't have been easy, being widowed young and left alone to care for twin boys, but somehow, she'd managed. "Alfred likes to shuck most of his chores on Matthew."

"He does." Matthew chimed, and from his wince, Alice assumed Alfred had kicked his twin underneath the table.

Caroline rolled her eyes, apparently having seen what Alice had. "Oh, and don't forget to use protection."

Alice blushed a deep shade of red while Alfred shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't argue with you on that one."

Living together wasn't as difficult as Alice thought it would be. Coursework aside, they had the freedom to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted to do it, though "whatever they wanted" mostly consisted of having sex. Really, sometimes they would be watching a movie and then Alice would find herself hanging upside down off the couch halfway through, able to see part of her boyfriend's reflection in the telly as he pushed into her. Alice tried not to be sentimental about it, though there was just something about being made love to on a couch she'd picked out and paid for herself that she enjoyed.

Alfred went out with his friends sometimes, though after Françoise left for France again, this time for good, Alice didn't have many close friends. There were Lovina and Feliciana Vargas of course, but Alice would only handle those two in small doses. Really, the only interaction she had was with Alfred's family, her own, and her college professors. And she was completely fine with that.

Not that everything was clean cut and perfect, because it wasn't. She and Alfred had conflicting personalities and interests, and they fought quite often, though to a healthy degree, if such a thing existed. But they had that one thing in common, the love they had for each other and for those differences, so they made it work, not that it was particularly hard.

It's in these quiet moments that she thinks about everything that led her to be there with Alfred. She woke up that morning to find Alfred spooned up behind her, one arm thrown over her body with his hand resting near her chest. She'd squirmed around until she was able to pull her own arm out from under Alfred's, reaching up to thread their fingers together and rest their clasped hands over her heart.

She can feel Alfred breathing softly against the back of her neck, and from the sharp shiver that runs through her whenever he does, she knows he's most likely drooled on her again, though Alice doesn't much care. A headache is building behind her eyes as her thoughts drift from the past to the future, all the things she has to do today, and she's tempted to turn around and shake Alfred awake. She resists, however, knowing Alfred will see how troubled she feels.

Alfred first mentioned his plan to join the military almost a month ago, and Alice isn't any more receptive to the idea now as she was then. The reason Alfred hadn't continued to play football in college was because she had practically begged him not to, aware of the dangers and not wanting to end up like those wives and girlfriends of other football players that she's read about in magazines before, the unlucky ones that have to deal with memory loss from serious concussions or worse. But playing football seems slightly preferable to joining the army now.

The world is quiet, currently, though Alice knows it's only a matter of time. This world is rotten, people despise each other, and just a few weeks ago Alice had seriously been concerned about the possibility of a third World War after all that happened with Syria. She can't bear the thought of losing Alfred, of him getting hurt, but she knows there's nothing she can do.

Her boyfriend wants to do this, and his desire to be a hero stems from the admiration he feels for a father he never truly knew. On top of taking care of Alice, Alfred's only desire is to help people, and the woman knows he'll do a fantastic job of that. She's proud of him for making such a decision, can only imagine how much strength and courage it must have taken to do so, but is it terrible that she wants to just keep him for herself?

No matter. If it comes down to it, she'll wait for him. She can't imagine an existence without Alfred anymore. It's inconceivable. And on top of that, Alice's father has approved of him and Paisley has grown accustomed to Alfred's presence. He's been integrated into the Kirkland family. There's really no going back.

"Hey." Alfred is awake, remaining spooned behind Alice as he tightens his one-armed grip on her. He can probably feel her racing heartbeat. "You okay?"

"Splendid." Alice sighs, squeezing one eye shut as the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds on the window begins to streak across her face. She starts to shift but freezes soon after, barely withholding a groan. "Fucking sore."

Alfred laughs, the cheeky bastard. Alice still isn't sure how Alfred got the idea of marathon sex, though she has suspicions that mainly involve Antonio. Alfred had roped her into it last night by taking cheap shots at her endurance for hours – _I guess Antonio was right about a limey not being able to handle it, babe _– though Alice certainly showed him, shoving the American down onto his favorite chair and then riding him into submission.

"What does Antonio know anyway? Like Lovina would even let him _suggest _marathon sex." She'd whispered, arching lewdly, her elbows on Alfred's shoulders as she took in his cock slowly, smirking at the near-pained expression on his face from all the teasing she'd done leading up to that moment. "I guess you got lucky, huh, Al? At least – _ah,_ this limey knows how to deliver."

"You did awesome, Ali." Alfred says, propping himself up slightly to lean over and kiss her cheek, lingering for a long moment so his lips brush against her skin when he speaks. "I really was expecting you to sock me when I brought it up. But for all you try to hide it, you're pretty kinky."

"Shove off." Françoise was under the same impression when she was still around, certain that Alice was only pretending to have no sex drive so people would take her more seriously. The two of them still correspond via email these days, and Françoise's been talking about visiting soon. She finds America fascinating and misses Alfred, Antonio, and Alice and her family, but France will always be her home, no matter how many childhood memories darken the busy streets. "If you would kindly get up, we could start our day."

Alfred chuckles, and she can feel his gaze burning into the back of her neck, perhaps drifting downward. They're both still naked, and while Alice is confident Alfred is sated enough that he won't try anything, she still feels weary. "Nah, we don't have to meet your dad and Paisley for lunch until twelve-thirty. We've got two hours to kill. You should tell me why your heart's beating so fast instead."

Dammit. Alice groans internally, and buries her face in her pillow, mumbling into the fabric. Alfred shifts, leaning closer and starting to rub up and down her arm. "Sorry, what was that? You're gonna have to speak louder, babe."

"Do you feel stuck?"

Alice isn't sure why that comes out instead of her patent, "I'm fine, you insufferable twat." She's spent the past three years suppressing the question, knowing nothing good will come of it, though it's out now, and she can't take it back. Alfred hasn't stopped stroking her arm, though his movements have slowed. "What do you mean?"

"With me." Alice elaborates, because Alfred is as oblivious as ever and that will probably never change. "Do you feel stuck being with me?"

"… Where's this coming from?"

"I don't know, Alfred, I mean... we moved into everything very quickly. You're only nineteen and you already have this huge commitment to uphold. I just don't want you to end up hating me somewhere down the road for… taking up most of your adolescence, I suppose."

Alfred is quiet, and Alice knows he's thinking of something reassuring to say, whether he truly means it or not. Alice doesn't believe in the concept of high school sweethearts, though as things stand, she knows that's what she and Alfred are. It should be nearly impossible to find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with in high school, and while Alfred is her end game of sorts, Alice can't truly believe it yet. She needs to know, though, before Alfred leaves for training. She can't just stay home and wonder.

"Do _you _feel stuck with _me_?"

Alice frowns, glancing over her shoulder at Alfred. He's still looming over her, though without her glasses, his expression is fuzzy at best. "Are you mocking me?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all. It's just that you're only twenty-one, and you're the one that hunkered down with a nineteen-year-old, so… do _you _feel stuck?"

She hardly has to think about it. She really wouldn't mind staying with Alfred forever, if there is such a thing, and starting a family with him. He's convinced he won't know how to be a proper father since he and Matthew were young when their father died, though Alice isn't worried. She's seen how he is with Paisley, and she's not even related to him directly by blood. No, Alice doesn't feel stuck at all. Privileged is probably the term she's looking for, though she won't tell Alfred. "Of course not."

Alfred smiles, and even without her glasses, Alice can see it all too clearly. "Well, there's your answer. I'm here 'cause I love your eyebrows and your stupid flip phone and your horrible cooking, and I love making you smile."

Alice groans as Alfred leans over her again, pressing kisses all over her face and reaching below the covers to stroke her stomach. "Ugh, no more marathon sex. You're entirely too sentimental afterwards."

"Whatever. I still think we should do it again sometime." Alfred replies, pulling Alice along with him as he sits up in the bed. The plush comforter falls away from their bodies, though Alfred keeps his eyes on Alice's face, never straying any lower. Alice doesn't make a move to cover herself regardless. Alfred's seen everything at this point. "Do you want to go take a shower? We didn't get a chance to yesterday."

"Together or separately?"

"Your call, babe."

Alice eyes Alfred carefully, still way too tired to deal with any of this in a graceful fashion, though she eventually decides Alfred deserves a break and tackles him to the bed, pulling him into a kiss with a grin on her face.

They may be a cliché in some ways, but Alice is perfectly fine with that.


End file.
